Look After You
by Esprit Criminel
Summary: AU - Emily is 18 and pregnant. Her mother is not on her side and she has to balance college and taking care of her baby so she can have a chance to be someone. Life has never been easy for her, but right now she will face the worst and the better at once.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **

**For this fanfiction's purposes I'm going to change Emily's age and a few other dates. Also, she's never had an abortion at the age of 15.**

**Emily was born on October 12th 1975.**

**Graduated from Garfield High at the age of 17 in June 1993.**

**From June 1993 to September 1994 she took a Gap year.**

**This fic begins on May 1994 and I'm planning on recreating the events until she joins the BAU. (although it's a bit premature to promise that)**

**I'm also planning on making Reid an important part of the story (if we make it to the BAU years). He won't be Emily's lover but he will play an important role...**

**If you have any questions please feel free to ask and please do let me know whether you liked this or not and if I should keep going. Your opinion is important and I'll take it in consideration for future chapters.**

**I have 5 chapters already written so if you show interest in the fic I should be able to update a bit more frequently than my other fic.**

**Thanks for taking the time to read the note and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any character of the show. Not that you'd think I do, but anyways… :D**

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><p><strong>C<strong>**hapter 1**

Typically, this would have been a good day. The Ambassador had left the house early in the morning to attend an important meeting and a business lunch that would certainly extend until probably sometime close to dinner. With some luck, no one would notice her presence today.

Had it started as a normal day without the Ambassador in the house, Emily would have probably enjoyed the calm of not having to deal with either her mother or her 'I'm-so-disappointed-in-you' speeches. Of course, Emily was already so used to those that she could bluntly ignore them and the sound of her mother's voice but, at the end of the day, and even if she wouldn't admit vulnerabilities easily, she would be lying if she said it didn't affect her that the person she was supposed to trust the most was the one she couldn't stand.

With the Ambassador gone for the day, the entire staff fell into a peaceful working rhythm and hadn't she been forced to be concerned for her life so early in the day, Emily herself would have been enjoying the pleasures of not having to calculate her every move to walk around unnoticed.

Emily paced in her bedroom not too confident that she would live through the fight she knew she would have to have with her mother.

It wasn't going to be pretty, and she was well aware of the fact.

"Fuck!" Emily muttered, pacing around her oversized room.

Everything in that house was oversized. Not that she minded, after all, it meant more places to hide from her mother, but everything in it looked so artificial and plotted it made her want to throw up. Why pretend to be a happy family when clearly, they were not?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She slumped down on her bed and looked at the stick on her hand. "Fuck!"

"That's what got you in trouble in the first place..."

Emily shot her friend a murderous look, letting him know it was not the time to make a joke.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I have no fucking idea, Matthew," Emily grunted, using her hands to lift her body from where she was sitting at the end of the bed, so she could push it backwards and sit closer to the headboard.

Emily rested her back against the mountain of pillows, brought her feet closer to her hips - not caring that her boots were planted firmly on the overpriced bed decoration - and placed the stick on top of her belly.

"You have to tell John, Emily," Matthew told her when he thought it was safe to share his opinion.

Emily just turned her head on the pillow and looked at him with a blank expression.

"My mother is going to kill me," she stated simply.

It was a fact to her. She knew her mother would look at her sternly, purse her lips and choose her words carefully before attempting to say something. The Ambassador would then condemn her, using the finest words known to man and all that without ever raising her voice. She would have to face the piercing look in her mother's eyes and be remembered of every reason why she shouldn't have been born – as if she had had a choice.

"Since when do you care about what your mother thinks?" he asked, frowning as he stepped back and propped himself up to sit on Emily's desk.

"I don't, Matthew, but this time it is different." She sighed. "I can't make 'this'," she stressed, waving her hands on top of her stomach. "Go away," she finished with obvious frustration in her voice.

Emily groaned as she pondered her options.

"You can..." he whispered, flinching at the fact he had dared to say it.

"What?" she shot her eyes open and looked at him surprised.

"I'm just saying, Emily... there are places where they..." he paused. "You know... terminate." He shrugged.

"No."

Emily got up in a swift movement and placed her hands on her stomach.

"No, Matthew. I'd rather be kicked out and shipped to Birmanya." She shook her head. "I'm not going to kill 'this'."

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief.

"You do realize that 'this' is your baby, right?"

Emily flinched as soon as she heard the words.

"Yeah..." she said slowly. "Right... no. It's an 'it' and I'm not getting too attached," she said forcefully while shaking her head.

"Why's that?"

"I'm pretty sure the Ambassador will take it away the minute it pops out."

Emily shuddered at the image in her head, shaking her head and deciding she didn't want to go there at the moment It was not the time to imagine overstretched vaginas, especially hers.

"What do you want, though?"

Emily's eyes met Matthew's, showing him a rare vulnerability - fear.

"I don't know," she whispered. "And I don't think it matters anyway," she added, snapping back to reality and slipping the mask on as quickly as it had fallen.

"It does. You are eighteen, technically your mother has no power over your decisions."

At that, Emily had to laugh.

"She's an Ambassador, Matthew. I'm eighteen, but you understand better than anyone that if I'm a threat to her political career, she will use every resource she has to get rid of the problem. My opinion won't matter, and I'm not sure I can go against her on this one."

"You're always running against her. Are you really stopping now?"

Emily shook her head. "How am I supposed to raise a baby on my own, Matthew?"

"You could start by telling John you're pregnant with his kid," he suggested.

"That's not the point right now, Matthew. John is just a pawn in the middle of this, as am I. If the Ambassador wants to get rid of it, she will, and I'll have to let her..." she explained. "I can't raise a baby without money. And trust me... she will cut my allowance if I put up a fight."

"You've lived without her allowance before," Matthew stated, grinning as the fights Emily had stirred just to get on her mother's nerves. More often than not, she had ended up without said allowance.

"Sure, but it was just me. I can fend for myself, plus, at the end of the day I had a place to come and a bed and food. I won't have any of it then. And my job won't pay for me and a baby."

"Don't you have like ten trust funds?" he frowned.

"Three and I can't use them until I'm 21," Emily told him. "Trust me Matthew... it's a dead end, and the Ambassador knows it. She'll kick me out of the house and cut my allowance, and then she will call social services and report a case of a mother with no conditions to raise a baby. They'll take it away. It will be gone either way," Emily admitted. "It's for the best if I give up the rights willingly."

"Really?" Matthew asked, astonished. "You're not even going to put up a fight?"

"I don't know what to do about this one," she confessed.

She knew confession meant weakness - that had been the motto her mother had forced on her as she grew up - but she also knew that if she ever needed a friend to talk to, it was now.

"How about going all Emily Prentiss on her?"

Emily chuckled.

"Emily you can do this with or without your mother, it's just a matter of trusting yourself!"

Matthew jumped off Emily's desk and sat at the end of her bed, patting the space beside him, telling her to sit next to him.

She complied and let Matthew wrap his arm around her.

"There's no one stronger than you Emily," he whispered. "No one that I know of anyway," he added. "I've known you since your first time in Rome... that's 4 years now, Emily, and I've never seen your mother raising a finger to help you. And I'm not talking money," he said. "It has always been you alone, and you turned out ok. I'd say you can also figure out something this time," he told her, resting his hand protectively on Emily's stomach. "Plus, you have me."

Emily chuckled once again.

"What?"

"That sounded so corny, Matthew..." she grinned, kissing his cheek. "Thank you," she told him honestly, relaxing on his arms.

For once she was happy her mother had accepted the posting in Rome. It had brought her two amazing friends - the only friends she had beyond the fences - and the fact that their parents were also diplomats meant they really understood loneliness as much as she did. For that they had accepted her right away and for that she was grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **

**I want to thank Come2MyRescue, Weeping Angel Of Fear and Arnz for kindly taking the time to review the first chapter to my fic :)**

**I also want to thank everyone who has favorited and alerted the story.**

**I thought I'd leave you with chapter two. I was planning on waiting longer to post it, but it looks like I changed my mind. **

**Hopefully you will enjoy. **

**Please leave some feedback if you can :) I appreciate it.**

**...**

**- If you are interested I can leave you a picture of Jean Philippe or you can simply picture him as you please... :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Later that day, Emily was sitting alone at the table in the dining room. She would normally get up and help setting the table for meals - she wasn't impaired and hated to let anyone else do everything for her; She wasn't her mother and these people the Ambassador dismissed with a snap of her fingers were the closest thing to a family she had. Today though, Emily sat at the end of the table unaware of the people going back and forth setting dishes and trays in front of her.

"Miss Prentiss?" a dark-haired young man called her; his deep French accent stressing the 'r' on her name. "Miss Prentiss?" he called again when Emily didn't reply.

Emily looked at the tall man blankly.

"Miss Prentiss?"

Emily shook her head and smiled. It was a distant smile, and the man knew it too well. "I'm sorry Jean Philippe, what were you saying?" she asked her Butler.

"Is everything ok, Miss Prentiss?" he asked, concerned.

Emily smirked. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"I'm sorry... Emily," the young man conceded.

"See? That's not difficult is it?" she grinned. "I'm fine Jean Philippe... just one of those days," she replied as one of the kitchen helpers started to fill her glass with water.

Emily placed her hand on the woman's hand and smiled politely.

"You don't have to do that with me, Helen," Emily told her. "I'm sorry I didn't help you out tonight. I was distracted," she apologized.

"Emily it's our job you don't have to apologize for that, sweetheart," Helen reassured her. She was part of the permanent staff that accompanied the Ambassador on every posting and had been there for as long as Emily remembered.

"I know, but..."  
>"It's ok sweetheart do not fret." The woman smiled warmly. "I appreciate your attitude. You are a fine young woman," Helen told her. "Enjoy your meal, sweetheart."<p>

Emily nodded and turned back to the Butler.

"Have you had dinner Jean Philippe?" Emily asked him.

"You know I haven't. I will grab something to eat with the other staff members as soon as the kitchen closes for the night."

"That's nonsense. Grab a plate and sit with me, will you?"

"I couldn't possibly do that, Mis-... Emily," he corrected just as soon as Emily shot him a stern, yet playful, look.

"Of course you can. I'm telling you to." Emily shrugged. "Urgh... don't be such a pain in the ass Jean Philippe. Go grab a plate and keep me some company, will you? It's not a big deal it's just a meal."

"You know your mother won't be pleased to see me sharing a meal with you. It's for the best if I eat with the rest of the staff," he explained.  
>Emily groaned loudly. She and Jean Philippe were close in age - he was merely five years older than Emily - and Emily would often relay on his company and take advice from him.<p>

"Oh please..." Emily rolled her eyes. "Wanna bet she will go straight to her office, as soon as she gets home? She won't notice and even if she does... I don't care. Let me handle her."

Jean Philippe nodded and excused himself to the kitchen, to grab a plate.

"You're signing yourself up for a lot of trouble, Philippe," he heard one of the waitresses telling him. "If the Ambassador dreams you're all over her daughter you'll be out of this house faster than you can blink."

The tall man looked at her in confusion. "I'm not all over Emily. I tried to refuse, but she insisted..."

"And you're so sad you'll have to sit with her to have dinner, right?" The woman rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on!" Helen protested. "Don't be so bitter, Diane. If your insides are as acidic as your words, I'm afraid one day you'll get yourself killed. Try a spoon full of sugar, honey."

"I'm just saying!" The woman threw her hands up. "Jean Philippe doesn't know what's waiting for him right around the corner if he doesn't get his act together," she continued as she dried the glasses with a towel and stored them in its places.

"Can you stop talking like I'm not here? What's wrong with you Diane? I'm just having a meal with Emily is that such a problem to you?" He frowned.

"And you're calling her Emily already..."

"You know too well she doesn't like to be treated like she's some porcelain doll. She doesn't like to be called Miss Prentiss..." he raised his voice. "I don't have to explain anything to you Diane."

"No you don't," the woman muttered. "Just make sure you keep it in your pants around her."

Noticing how worked up Jean Philippe was getting by Diane's remark Helen decided it was a good time to intervene.

"Here's your plate dear," Helen said, handing him a plate. "Go and enjoy your dinner," she smiled warmly.

Being one of the eldest in the Prentiss household Helen was respected by the staff, and she was an important asset when it came to breaking fights which, unfortunately with Diane, weren't uncommon. She was also good at evaluating people, and she was aware of the way Jean Philippe looked at Emily. She knew the young man had it for her. She just wasn't sure how Emily felt about him. It was true she knew her well and could read her easily, but when it came to Jean Philippe, she wasn't sure where the young woman's feelings landed.

Helen sighed, watching as Jean Philippe nodded his thanks and walked out of the kitchen. She turned to look at Diane and yet again she sighed, shaking her head. That was a seriously bitter young girl and if Emily ever reciprocated Jean Philippe's love, she was sure Diane would do everything in her power to ruin it.

"What are you looking at?" Diane spat as she noticed Helen staring at her.

"Nothing, dear. Nothing..." She sighed, shaking her head. Some people simply weren't worth the trouble.

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><p><strong>Hi! I'm Emily Prentiss and I'm telling you to leave Esprit Criminel a review. Do it or I'll kick your ass! :D<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you very much red lighting and Come2MyRescue for taking the time to review the last chapter. You guys rock! :D**

**I'm updating frequently this week because Wednesday I'm flying out of town and I won't be able to get my hands on a laptop probably until Sunday/Monday.**

**I also uploaded two links in my profile page (first three lines) to Jean Philippe's picture. That's the guy that inspired the whole thing but feel free to imagine someone else.**

****Please sit back and enjoy this chapter :P****

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" Jean Philippe asked Emily as he looked at her and noticed she had been playing with her food instead of eating it.

"What?" Emily lifted her eyes to look at him. "I'm fine. I told you... I'm just having one of those days, and I'm not hungry," she said smiling.

The dark-haired man shrugged as he took a bite from his steak. "Well, Emily, you really can't fool me. I know there's something going on, you can just tell me you don't want to talk about it, and I'll respect your decision," he told her softly as she shifted on her chair.

At that, Emily smiled.

Even though she knew she wasn't making an effort to cover the fact she was worried, she knew Jean Philippe was the only one other than Helen that, in that house, could read her like a book - even when she slipped the mask on.

"I'm sorry..." she swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in her throat. "I'm sorry I... I'm not ready."

Jean Philippe smiled warmly and nodded, grabbing her hand and squeezing it in encouragement - as he had done many times.

Emily averted her gaze to her plate. She couldn't look him in the eyes. She had to keep the pregnancy to herself and figure out what to do before she told him.

"Well, you know where to find me if you need to talk. It's not like I have a life outside these walls," He said in a joking tone, trying to lighten the mood.

"Guess we are both trapped in here, then." She nodded in understanding.

"Where's your family?" Emily asked him after a while. "I don't think I've ever asked you that," she said, trying to think of a time when they had talked about his family.

"I don't really have a family. Helen has been the closest thing to a mother ever since I came to this house," he whispered.

That was a subject he wouldn't often talk about, or think for what mattered.

"You don't have a family here in America, or you don't have a family at all?"

"I really don't have a family. I grew up in the foster system back in France. As soon as I turned eighteen I managed to come here. I had been collecting money for that very purpose, and I spent every dime on a ticket," he confessed.

"So you just spent all your money on a ticket to the States. Did you have anything planned? A job waiting or someplace to stay?" Emily asked curiously - her food long forgotten and all her attention focused on Jean Philippe.

"Not at all," he chuckled. "I figured I'd find something once I got here," he said, taking a sip from his water. "I guess I expected too much because I had to spend three days sleeping at the Constitution Gardens before I got could find a job."

"You're insane!" Emily laughed.

"Maybe, but I had to do something for my life," he told her, looking her in the eye. "It couldn't get much worse, Emily."

Emily nodded, pursing her lips - wanting him to explain further but afraid it would be too much if she asked. It didn't seem like he was comfortable talking about his childhood and 'that', she could understand.

"I think I remember you telling me your first job was at a bar, serving drinks," she said slowly, looking at him with a slight questioning frown trying to get any indication from Jean Philippe that she was right. When he nodded Emily smiled with satisfaction. "So..." Emily started, finally taking a bite from her food. "How did you go from working at a bar to being my very own Butler?" Emily asked him with a hint of mischief in her eyes as she showed him a wide smile.

"You make it sound like I'm your personal babysitter, Miss Prentiss," he chuckled, taking in the beauty of her smile.

He noticed Emily rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Will you ever learn, Jean Philippe?"

"I'm sorry?"

"If you call me Miss Prentiss again I'll have to gag you with your not-so-fashionable white gloves," she teased. "And, well, my mother did hire you with the babysitting intention, trust me," she sighed.

"She simply wants me to keep an eye on you, Emily. Make sure you are taken care of."

"Puh-lease Jean Philippe..." she scoffed. "How long have you been working here?"

"Two years."

"And you still think she hired you to make sure I'm taken care of?" she laughed.

"Certainly not. I'm also responsible for providing dinner service, coordination with your security detail to make sure you are protected, and I arrange your trips with the driver," he explained. "I believe it's also my function to carry out your personal affairs, and yet not once have you asked me for such thing."

"See?" Emily lifted her hand and nodded as if she had just proven her point. "If you think about the kind of relationship I have with my mother you'll notice all of your functions are a mean of keeping me on a tight leash."

Jean Philippe was about to protest when Emily continued.

"But tell me, how did you get the position?" she asked, interested.

"By working hard," he said simply.

"Come on! Is that all I'm going to get?" Emily protested with a pout.

"There's really not much to tell, Emily. I worked at the bar to save the money for the eight-week household management course,"

"Uhh... fancy name," she teased him.

"I completed my training, did well on my practical exams and started looking for a job. That's how I came across you," he winked playfully.

"Is that where they brain-washed you into wearing those awful gloves?" she remarked.  
>Jean Philippe smiled. Ever since he had joined the staff Emily had tried to convince him to get rid of said gloves, which he had adamantly refused to do. Even though he too wasn't keen of the garment, it was part of his dress code.<p>

They finished their meals in a comfortable silence - both enjoying each other's presence.

After a few minutes just staring at each other wondering what the other was thinking, Emily broke the silence.

"Come on!" she said.

Emily wiped her mouth to the red linen napkin and got up energetically, extending her hand to him.

"Let's take a walk outside!" She smiled brightly.

At this point the young man didn't have it in him to say no to Emily. He had already broken the rules by accepting to have dinner with her. Taking a walk certainly wouldn't be a problem.

He grabbed her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin against his own and followed her outside to the luxurious garden.

He couldn't help but notice once more how beautiful she looked - her top, tight jeans and knee-high boots fit her perfectly and accentuated each curve perfectly.

The more Jean Philippe took in her beauty, the more he pushed to the back of his mind the fact that, deep down he knew Diane had been right when she said he was walking a dangerous path. He couldn't help how he felt about Emily, and as he watched her smiling contently, sitting on the grass by the water fountain, he started to feel his heart beating faster. It was a bittersweet feeling - love and admiration for the free-spirited woman but also sadness for he knew it would take a miracle for them to be able to be together.

Jean Philippe sat next to Emily, his blue eyes not resisting the temptation of looking back at her. Even when the smile on her face fell and was replaced by a gentle frown of concentration he couldn't think of anything more beautiful.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out all of a sudden, her eyes fixed on the fountain - afraid of what she would find if she looked him in the eyes. Afraid that he would walk away on her.

His mouth opened slightly in shock and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt his throat drying and soon he too was averting his gaze. He had not been expecting the news.

Suddenly, he had no idea what to say to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm currently out of town and I'm using a laptop that's not my own so I can present you with an update, but I won't be able to update until next week.**

**I'm not sure I have replied to your reviews so I'll do it now:**

**SSA Annie Em – I am really, really glad you are enjoying the story and I appreciate your review! :)**

**Come2MyRescue – Oh there's no one better for Emily than Derek but I have to agree with you: JP is good alright! :D – Thank you so much for leaving a reply.**

**Smurfswilleatya – I'm glad you are digging Jean Philippe and I'm even happier that you are enjoying the fic! Thanks for dropping a review! :)**

**Now seriously, thank you for leaving me a review. It means a lot. I do realize I'm not getting that much attention on this fic so I genuinely appreciate that you took the time to review. Thank you! :)**

**On a random note… oddly enough looks like I'm going to be keeping Emily some company on the pregnancy thing. Given the big turn my life took after my fiancé passed away I must say I wasn't expecting the news, but I'm happy. Actually, for the first time in months I can say such thing with conviction. I thought I'd share that with you. It's big news after all.**

**I hope you are all doing well and please enjoy the new chapter.**

**Next update: probably Monday/Thursday**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 <strong>

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" Jean Philippe asked dryly, not sure he had heard her right.

"It was a foolish mistake, I..."

Emily looked at him with worry filled eyes.

"I slept with John and... I don't even like him that way. We were drunk and next thing I know we're... It just... happened," she told him, ashamed.  
>She wasn't sure why she had told him that. It wasn't part of the plan to tell anyone until she figured out a way to tackle her mother, but it felt right, like a natural and comfortable thing to do, and she knew she could use his advice.<p>

"Oh... it's ok...I wasn't expecting that, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head in surprise. "How... are you feeling?"

Emily scoffed. "Nice question. I don't know. Confused, scared..." she admitted.

"Does the Ambassador know?"

"No! You wouldn't be talking to me if she did," she replied quickly, frowning.

"When are you going to tell her?"

"That's the thing," Emily started. "I don't have a clue on how to approach her. It would be a good thing if she got a posting on some foreign country..."

"You'd still have to tell her," the man reasoned.

"Not until after the baby was born," Emily smirked.

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

The brunette nodded, smiling.

"That's why I told you."

"I think you should tell the Ambassador soon. She may take in consideration you trusted her, and she may stand by your side on this."

"She will hate me, Jean Philippe. I mean... she already does, but she will want me to terminate the pregnancy and the more I think, the more I know I don't want to do that," Emily said, bringing her hand to her stomach instinctively.

"You don't know that..." he told her calmly.

"Oh I do, Jean Philippe... her teenage daughter being pregnant is too much of a scandal for her political career. She will either make me terminate the pregnancy or keep me in hiding until I have the baby and then force me to give up my rights," she told him as she met his eyes for the first time.

"She can't do that Emily. It's your body and your baby. You get to make your own decisions."

He wasn't sure if he was right. He knew the Ambassador could be relentless but Emily already knew that, and he was pretty sure what she needed now was some kind of support.

"Yeah..." Emily muttered unconvinced.

"It's her grandchild growing in there... she's got to have a heart," he offered with a light smile.

"You're so innocent, Jean Philippe," Emily said, laughing. "That woman is a cold-hearted bitch! Are you kidding? She will have a heart attact at the prospect of someone calling her 'grandma' before she's 90 and in the grave," Emily snorted. "And even then I suspect she'll be rolling in it in disdain."

"You probably got that right," Jean Philippe chuckled. "But you never know... people can surprise you sometimes."  
>Emily nodded.<p>

"Do you really want to keep the baby, Emily?" he asked quietly.

"I think I do, you know?" Emily replied, bringing her legs to her chest and resting her head on her knees, looking at him. "But everything is against this. Even John's parents will want me to clean the mess." She sighed. "If I choose to have this baby I'll be on my own."

"That's not true." Jean Philippe shook his head, reinforcing his opinion.

Emily smiled sadly. "What? Are you going to stick with me and help me out when my mother kicks me out of the house?" she joked.

Jean Philippe shifted uncomfortably as he stared at her. "If you wanted me to I would," he told her simply.

"You're sweet Jean Philippe."

"I'm not joking, Emily. I mean it. I'll be there if you want me to," he said forcefully. "I'll do it in a heartbeat if you tell me that's what you want."

He scooted closer to Emily, hoping she wouldn't push him away and placed his arm around her.

Emily tensed up. While she found it incredibly sweet of him to say something like that and while she enjoyed the comforting embrace, she felt a change in his mood. She was surprised. She hadn't noticed it before but now that she looked back she realized it had always been there - the loving looks, the protectiveness, the extra effort to make her smile - and it scared her. She wasn't girlfriend material - she couldn't fully trust anyone, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she was afraid of letting her guard down, afraid of ending up hurt again. She had been used far too many times simply because her mother had money or because they wanted to get into her pants and, to top it all, despite what everyone might think, she wasn't as confident as she was forced to let out. She was a walking mess.

"Jean Philippe..." Emily started, shifting away from his embrace.

She noticed how his smile fell and it pained her to know she had caused it.

He looked at her with a twitch of disappointment to his gentle blue eyes and she wanted nothing more than to apologize and stay in his arms for as long as he'd allow her. For the two years Jean Philippe had worked for her mother, she had always felt safe around him and it had been too easy to grow close to him - he wasn't afraid to show he cared, and he was bluntly honest with her whenever she had asked for his advice. She was honored that someone as special as him, felt so deeply for her, but she couldn't possibly allow him to get any closer to her and bring him to the mess she knew her life would turn into as soon as she told her mother about her unborn child. She knew it would be very easy to fall in love with him - he was beautiful in every sense of the word - and it wasn't like she hadn't noticed how good looking he was; or how his dimples made him look even more charming. Emily was sure that, if being with her wouldn't ruin his life and get him fired, he was the guy she would be willing to trust her life with.

It was that knowledge though, that made her push away from him. He deserved better. He deserved less complicated and she wasn't about to get in the way of that.

"Did I say something wrong, Emily?" he asked concerned. "I apologize," he said quickly, afraid he had scared her, made her think he was a creep.

"No." Emily shook her head. "No, you didn't say a thing wrong. It's just that, Jean Philippe... you say everything right, and you make a girl feel good about herself," she told him.

However good the words sounded, they made the young woman's face twist into a frown. She wasn't happy.

"Yet you don't sound like that's a good thing..." he pressed.

"Do you like me Jean Philippe?" Emily asked him, ignoring his last comment and hoping to everything she held dearly he would tell her he didn't, tell her she had picked up something that wasn't there. It would make her life so much easier if he would prove her wrong.

"More than friends," she added as she noticed the look of confusion cross his features.

Jean Philippe got up on his feet and extended his hand to Emily. She accepted it and took a moment to wipe her jeans with her hands before returning her gaze to him. He was watching her.

"There it is the adoration look again," Emily thought.

He walked closer to her and cradled her face between his hands.

He looked in her eyes, trying to read her. He had always loved her chocolaty brown eyes - they never failed to show him more than she allowed to voice.

He smiled at her; silently telling her how much he cared. Then, he simply leaned closer and pressed a protective kiss on her forehead.

Emily on her end couldn't move. His hands felt warm on her skin, and his eyes gave her the answer to her question, although she would never accept it unless it came from his mouth.

Her heart was racing in her chest as he kept looking into her - it was beating so fast it ached, the kind of ache she had always heard of but didn't think was possible.

Then he leaned down and pressed his lips on her forehead, and her knees felt wobbly. How he could hold so much power over her, she didn't know; and it surprised her that she was feeling such strong feelings for that man.

Jean Philippe slowly retreated to his previous position and fixed his gaze back on Emily's.

"You are asking me, Emily, but you don't really want me to answer that, do you?" he asked softly, showing her a small smile.

She broke eye contact and felt the warmth of his hands leaving her cheeks. It felt cold in comparison, and she wanted to take his hands and feel them on her skin again, but she knew she had to be stronger than that.

She shook her head - ashamed she wasn't willing to listen to what she already knew, afraid to make it real.

"Then we will leave it as it is," he whispered. "Sometimes when you love someone the best way to prove it is to let them go. And with this I'm not admitting anything... I'm just saying," he smiled.

Emily swallowed hard, wondering if she was making the right decision and trying to understand why it felt so wrong to allow him to let her go.


End file.
